


My Happy Valentine

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universes, Holiday: Valentine's Day, M/M, Other: See Story Notes, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:30:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Blair contemplates roses and Jim snorts at smelly balls and none of the guys got what they wanted but they've probably already got everything but just don't know it yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Happy Valentine

**Author's Note:**

> A PWP by my standards (Eek! Run for the hills!) with no sex (Gasp! Horror!) set in the first season.

## My Happy Valentine

by Shirin

Author's disclaimer: Naomi says Blair is hers, but Jim wants a second opinion. And he's willing to pay. But since Pet Fly, UPN and SciFi abandoned them, doesn't that mean they don't want them anymore? So they're up for grabs, right? So..um...can I keep 'em?

* * *

My Happy Valentine 

January 1st 

"You don't think roses are too cliche, do you?" Blair asked, pausing as he looked up from his ubiquitious notepad. 

"Roses, Chief?" 

"Yeah. For Valentine's. Whaddaya think?" Blair continued scribbling, the tip of his tongue slightly showing as he frowned at what he'd written. 

"Isn't it too early to be thinking about Valentine's, Sandburg?" Jim leaned back into his chair, regarding his new, albeit unofficial, partner with an undeniable air of amused bemusement. 

"Oh man, that's where you're so wrong," Blair tsked, scratching out something he'd written but decided he didn't agree with. "Valentine's is like _the_ day. It's utter crap now, what with the commercialism. And maybe with true love, well, you don't really need Valentine's Day to say you love someone, hey Jim? But -- and here's the clincher, man -- when you're looking to score with someone who's definitely into the whole shebang -" 

"Say no more, Sandburg," Jim Ellison sighed, laughing a little as he shook his head in disbelief. Blair grinned at him from where he sat, at the side of his desk, eyebrows waggling as he happily twirled a tortured pencil. 

"So who's the lucky lady?" 

  * * * 



January 15th 

Little balls. 

Little multicoloured balls. 

Little multicoloured mothballs. 

There were little multicoloured mothballs all over his desk. 

"Sandburg!" 

Blair popped out from under Jim's desk, breathing a little heavily and glasses slightly askew. "Yeah, Jim?" 

"'Yeah, Jim?'" Jim Ellison drew in a long, exasperated breath, mentally counting to ten. Maybe if he closed his eyes, things would make sense when he opened them again. But when he did open them as he reached that magical double digit, the coloured balls were still littering his desk. 

And Sandburg was still behind it. And he was _bouncing_ , even! Jim gave him his best 'what-the-hell-do-you-think-you're doing-and-why-are-you-doing-it-at-my-desk' stare and discovered that it didn't work quite as well on this particular anthropologist as it did on his colleagues. Wordlessly, he gestured a little frantically at his desk. Action did speak louder than words, right? 

"Huh? Oh!" 

Jim's jabbing at the empty air between them suddenly seemed to make perfect sense to Blair, who immediately started to sweep the little coloured balls together. 

"Hey, sorry about this, man. I was just, you know, opening the jar to get a better look -- don't they smell nice, Jim? -- and well, the cover kinda slipped and I was trying to catch it and the whole thing tipped over, you know? But don't worry, I think I got them all..." 

"What are you trying to do, Chief? Kill Rainbow Warrior cockroaches? Nuke the Moth fairy? These things are poisonous, Sandburg," Jim complained, pushing past Blair to sit on _his_ chair, at _his_ desk. "There'd better not be any of those things under here, Chief," he muttered, sneaking a quick glance under his desk. "They stink. Weird smell for mothballs, though." 

"They aren't mothballs, Sherlock," Blair huffed, a little miffed at Jim's rebuke. He grabbed a nearby chair and turned it, sitting facing the back of the chair and Jim, who was shuffling his files around, muttering under his breath. 

"Your files are _fine_ , man. These aromatherapy pellets just fell on them, you know. They didn't bend them all out of shape. Sheesh!" 

"Aromatherapy pellets, Chief? Smelly balls, that's what they are. Plain smelly balls." 

"You are so...so... Unh!" Blair gritted his teeth at his friend's utter lack of finesse. "These are _the_ answer to creating the perfect mood, man! You've heard of 'romance is in the air'?" Blair paused momentarily to allow Jim to nod in response, but when he only got an annoyed frown in reply, Blair could only sigh dejectedly. 

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry for messing up your desk with my smelly little balls -- Man, did I just say that?" Blair grimaced. "It's not like I purposely -" 

"Sandburg," Jim interrupted, "I *don't* want to know why your 'smelly little balls'," he punctuated each word with a sharply pointing finger, "are doing on my desk, alright?" He gave Blair his best 'say-anything-and-die' stare and discovered that this stare worked better. "I just don't want to see any of your weird stuff here, okay? It's - it's bad enough that I have to sit through all your strange tests that no sane lab rat would want to -" 

"You're not a lab rat, Jim." 

"Whatever, Sandburg. What I mean is, I get enough strange stuff from you at home, alright? Leave it out at work? Please?" The last he said with a strong note of insistence. 

"Okay," Blair nodded, hands gesturing his acquiescence. "That's fair. I hear that. Definitely no more weird stuff at the PD, man. I'll just put the pellets away and we can go on with the...um..normal stuff, eh?" Blair grinned as he hastily cleared Jim's desk of the multicoloured pellets. 

"Okay," Jim nodded in agreement. "We've got that cleared up then." 

"Oh yeah, Jim," Blair replied, voice slightly muffled as he dug into his backpack. "Everything clear and understood." He pulled out several photocopied journal articles which were heavily marked in fluorescent highlights and large circles in red ink and proceeded to go through them. 

Jim threw him a suspicious glance, expecting some clever retort, but when Blair seemed oblivious, he snorted and went back to his files, pulling out the one on his current case. He flipped through the various witness statements, forensic reports and assorted forms but they didn't seem to make much sense to him. Similar sounds of paper pushing came from beside him, intermittently interrupted by a muted exclamtion or two. 

Jim sighed. 

"Romance is in the air, Chief?" 

  * * * 



January 29th 

"JimJimJim! Listen to this!" Blair pulled off his earphones and tried to place it over Jim's ears, ignoring his partner's rather indignant sputtering and very physical protests. 

"What the hell!?! Sandburg! What do you think you're doing? We're on a stakeout, for God's sake!" 

"Yeah yeah yeah," Blair shushed, pushing away Jim's protesting hands and adjusting the earphones. "Hold on," he mumbled as he fiddled with the volume control on his portable CD player, "I've got the volume down to zero. I'll turn it up slowly, and you just tell me when to stop, alright, Jim?" 

"Stop what -- No, I still can't...too loud! Whoa! Yeah, okay, okay right there, Chief." Soft strains of music filtered through the soft sponge covering the tiny receivers and Jim found himself nodding in time to the melody. 

"Nice, huh?" 

"Not bad, Chief. Not... Wait a minute!" Jim pulled off the earphones, turning in his seat to glare down at his widely grinning partner. "What _is_ this? _We_ are supposed to be keeping an eye out for the perp, Sandburg, not listening to the Top Forty!" 

"Correction, Jim. _You_ are supposed to be keeping an eye out for _your_ perp. I, your friendly neighbourhood anthropologist and grad student, am merely here to record your use of those fantastic senses on the job. Organic surveillance equipment, man, remember? 

"So _you_ watch your perp, and _I_ watch _you_ ," Blair chuckled smugly. 

"And how am I supposed to do any watching when you're stuffing my ears with inane muzak, Shecky?" 

"Muzak? That is so _not_ muzak, my musically challenged friend. That, for your information, is _the_ background music to end _all_ background music. When I play it after dinner, with the perfect glass of wine, she will be putty, man, _putty_ in my hands." Blair sighed happily. 

"Don't tell me," Jim mock-growled. "Just another part of your Great Valentine's Day Caper?" 

Blair nodded enthusiastically, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

  * * * 



February 10th 

"What do you think?" 

Jim chewed slowly, savouring the lamb. The meat was tender and had just the right amount of black pepper and seasoning in the gravy to complement the rich meat. 

"Well?" Blair sat at the edge of his chair, gripping the ladle in his right hand. A trail of dark brown gravy flowed down the handle onto his fist, but he remained oblivious; Jim had all his attention. 

And Jim didn't seem to notice that Blair was chewing his lips in suspense. 

"So does it taste okay?" 

Jim swallowed, and took another mouthful of lamb, vaguely nodding with what might be approval, reproach or even distaste. He swallowed and took a sip of the red wine Blair had chosen to accompany the meal. 

"Good?" Blair asked again, fidgetting in his seat. The dripping gravy finally caught his attention and he cursed softly as he rushed over to the sink. Jim took the opportunity to help himself to another helping of Blair's main entree. 

Blair caught him in the act of cutting himself another piece of lamb. "Think she'll like it as much as you do, Jim?" 

Jim looked up at Blair, chewing happily as he did so. "Yeah, Sandburg. I think she will." 

  * * * 



February 14th, 8.00 a.m. 

"Flowers, check. Dinner, check. Music...damn! Jim!" 

"Yeah?" Jim's voice drifted down from the loft? 

"Did you put the CD back?" Blair checked himself in the mirror again. Clean, pressed silk shirt. Black vest, yeah. Leather pants. Yeah, he looked fine. 

"What CD?" 

" _The_ CD, man! I don't believe this. I thought you said you didn't like the _muzak_!" Blair stormed out of the bathroom, and almost ran straight into Jim as he came down the stairs. 

"Woah, don't get your shorts all twisted up Junior," Jim laughed. "The CD's all ready for your big date." 

Blair sighed in relief. "Man, thanks. Everything's got to be perfect, you know?" 

"Don't worry, Chief, she'll love it." 

"You think? Man, I hope so," Blair worried, looking around the loft to make sure that everything was just...perfect. 

"*Don't* _worry_ ," Jim assured him, grabbing Blair's shoulders and steering him toward the door. "Everything will be _fine_." 

"Yeah, I know," Blair shrugged a little embarassedly, giving Jim a somewhat unsure smile which made Jim quirk an eyebrow in amusement. "You sure you're okay with this?" Blair asked, rubbing his hands somewhat nervously. "I mean, I don't want to be putting you out or anything, Jim. Just say the word, you know? Just say the word and I'll take the whole thing somewhere else, you know? You don't have to -" 

"Sandburg?" Jim pulled on his jacket and adjusted his cap. 

"Yeah?" 

"I *don't* mind, capiche? Have your date, bring her over for dinner and whatever your after-dinner plans are, as long as the deed is done by the time I get back from the stakeout, then I have no objections, okay?" 

"Yeah, okay," Blair grinned, relief obvious on his face. "You're really cool with this, huh?" 

Jim smiled at his roommate. "Yeah, Sandburg, I'm cool with it. Now," Jim opened the door and looked over his shoulder at a still-smiling Blair. "Am I dropping you off or are you walking?" 

Blair hurriedly grabbed at his jacket. 

  * * * 



February 14th, 11.30 p.m. 

Jim Ellison rubbed at his nose. It had suddenly developed an irritating itch. The stakeout was as uneventful as it was the night before, so far. And without Blair's company, boredom had sat in long before his ass went numb. 

Jim shifted a little in his seat to relief said numbness, glancing at his watch as he did so. A little smile found its way through as he imagined Blair at the loft, 'entertaining'. 

Oh yes, Blair was definitely entertaining. His date was surely one lucky girl. 

Jim sniffled, snorting slightly as he craned his neck to catch a glimpse of the building that was currently under watch. There didn't seem to be any activity in its vicinity, and there didn't seem to be any sign that anything out of the ordinary would happen either. 

Cascade was once again living up to its name and the rain outside didn't show any sign of letting up. Jim sighed and contemplated another thirty minutes of watching an empty building before his relief would be due. What he wouldn't give to be back in the loft, curled up in front of the television with a mug of hot cocoa, watching some inane midnight movie or some similarly plotless rerun. Whatever was on the tube wouldn't matter because Blair would be giving a running commentary on some more interesting anecdote, anyway. Or else - 

The shrill ring from his cell phone interrupted his musing. 

"Ellison," Jim answered with his usual brusqueness. 

"Hey." 

"Sandburg?" Instinctively, Jim shifted the cell phone to his left hand and groped for the ignition with his right. Yeah, the keys were there, alright. "What's wrong?" 

"What makes you think anything's wrong, man?" Blair asked plaintively, voice all tinny from the connection. 

"Aren't you supposed to be on your dream date, Sandburg?" 

"Yeah, well..." 

Jim frowned at the silence. 

"Blair?" 

"Guess I wasn't her dream date, man," Blair's voice sounded cheerful but dripped with disappointed despondency. 

"Where are you, Sandburg? Did you even get to the loft?" Jim's lips pursed even as he asked, and he shut his eyes as he registered the sound of falling rain over the phone. 

Blair's bitter chuckle confirmed his suspicions. 

"Where are you, Chief? I'll pick you up," Jim asked again. 

"Nah, I'm okay. You're still on the stakeout, right? I'll grab a cab or a bus or something..." 

"Damnit Chief! Tell me where you are!" Jim growled. The truth, Sandburg. No arguments! 

"Hey, okay! Okay! Don't get all pissy on me, man." Silence reigned for a few moments before a tired sigh broke through. "I'm just outside the diner opposite the PD." 

"Okay, I'll call in for my relief to come in a little early. You just stay put, Sandburg. I should be there in about fifteen minutes, alright?" 

"Yeah, okay. I'll be here." 

Jim frowned as the line disconnected. Putting away the cell phone, he called in for his relief. 

  * * * 



February 14th, 11.50 p.m. 

Jim turned the corner a little hastily when he saw a familiar figure leaning against the diner's glass window. 

"Shit, Sandburg," Jim hissed to himself. "What the hell are you doing outside?" He hit the horn, and the loud honk in the silence of the night seemed to startle Blair to attention. Despite the awning outside the diner, the younger man was drenched. 

Jim leaned over to open the door on the passenger side, pulling back just as Blair got into the Expedition. 

"Here," Blair grinned through his dripping hair. A fresh-looking rose in full bloom looked Jim in the face. 

Jim took the flower with a somewhat confused look on his face. "What, just one, Chief?" 

"I gave all the others away at the diner while I was waiting for you. I saved the best for last, man." 

"Yeah, well, I don't think *you'll* last any longer, Sandburg. Let's go home before you drown, alright?" 

"Yeah. Home sounds good right now." 

  * * * 



February 15th, 12.15 a.m. 

"What were you _thinking_ , Sandburg?" Jim chewed his lamb agitatedly. Blair sat opposite him, freshly showered and considerably drier than he had been when he walked into the loft earlier. 

Blair put down his fork and leaned back in his chair, aborted Valentine's dinner untouched. "Okay, I wasn't thinking, alright? I just didn't -- Ah choo!" The sneeze caught him by surprise and he just barely managed to turn away before letting loose. 

"Oh geez! Now you're -- See what you did?" Jim whined exasperatedly. 

"What? Wha -- Ah choo!" 

"Oh come on, Sandburg," Jim stood and walked over to his sneezing roommate. "To the couch, Aquaman." 

And Blair shuffled over to the couch without even a token protest, collapsing bonelessly onto it when he got there. Jim pulled the afghan off the back of the couch and draped it over his partner who shuddered in response. 

"What?" 

"'snice," Blair mumbled as he snuggled deeper into the warm covering. 

Jim nodded, waiting until he was sure that Blair wasn't planning to leave the couch anytime soon. Then he went over to the fridge to pour out some milk. Warming the milk in the microwave, Jim brought it over to Blair. 

"Here," he said, nudging the younger man. 

Blair opened one eye and eyed the steaming mug Jim was handing him. "Um...thanks," he said as he shifted to recline against the couch arm. 

Jim sipped at his milk as he settled on the floor, leaning against the couch Blair was ensconced in. 

"So," he said between sips. 

"So." 

"Sam never showed up, huh?" Jim glanced at his partner. Blair was slowly sipping his milk, holding the mug with both hands as he gazed at the far wall. 

"Nope." 

"She was on duty?" 

"Nope." 

"She forgot?" 

"Yup." 

"You know, Chief. Monosyllables do not become you," Jim grinned up at Blair, which earned him a scathing look from said source of monosyllables. 

"Well, Chief," Jim sighed, ignoring the pathetic look on his partner's face. "For what it's worth, Sam missed a great Valentine." 

"Yeah?" A hopeful lilt adorned the tentative query. 

Jim nodded. "Yup, her loss, Sandburg," he assured, reaching up to relieve Blair of his empty mug. "She missed a great dinner, and great company," he said as he walked over to the kitchen. 

"You think?" Blair mumbled sleepily as he snuggled deeper into the couch. 

"Yup. A wonderful evening of good food, good company and song," Jim nodded, moving over to the stereo and putting on the CD Blair had selected for his great seduction scene. "Personally, Sandburg, I don't see what it is you see in her. She isn't exactly your type --" 

A soft snore punctuated Jim's sentence, causing him to turn and contemplate his sleeping partner. 

Blair was all wrapped up in the colourful afghan, argyle-covered feet peeking out at one end and tousled drying curls at the other. And Jim couldn't help smiling at the sight. 

Turning down the music so that it was only a soft accompaniment to his roommate's softer exhalations, Jim locked up and switched off the lights. Settling himself into the other couch, Jim switched on the television and muted the volume. As a rerun of some black and white classic flickered on the screen, he turned once more towards Blair's sleeping form, a sad little smile on his face. 

"Happy Valentine's, Blair." 

-End- 


End file.
